


Warm Me Up

by FreyReh



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, canaryfire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 08:25:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7794565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyReh/pseuds/FreyReh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurel seeks comfort from Mick (Light M)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm Me Up

note: art by [pintosketches ](http://pintosketches.tumblr.com/post/149116862146/i-blame-freyreh-for-this-but-can-you-give-us-a)

Since being brought back from the dead, Laurel Lance found that she was always cold. She’d never been a fan of layers, but now she avidly searched for thick sweaters, jackets, and pants. Even now, with her black sweater and the jacket over it, she felt the chill down to her bones. Crossing her arms over her chest she slowly walked toward her room on the Waverider, only stopping when hearing the slow drag of metal against flint. Stilling she looked up to see Mick Rory leaning up against the wall near the door to his room. He had a cigarette in his mouth, the end glowing amber as he lit it. He snapped his lighter closed, inhaled the smoke deeply, then looked at her and nodded while blowing out the smoke. 

“Canary,” he said, pocketing his lighter.

“Mick… Are you supposed to be smoking here?”

“Why? You gunna go tell on me?” he asked, taking another long drag, blowing the blue smoke up toward the ceiling. 

Laurel had to admit when she first met him she couldn’t stand him. He was a criminal, after all, but she soon realized that basically everyone on this ship was. Including her sister. Including herself, for having been a vigilante, and now for faking her death to not mess up the timeline. Rescuing her had come at a price. She now had to sit and wait for the “ _right time_ ” to be reintroduced to the timeline. It was bullshit. She felt like a prisoner. Any mission that took place in the past she embraced because it was the one time she was actually allowed to be free. At times, she debated just leaving… Just getting lost in another era. But she couldn’t do that to Sara.

“No,” she said, walking toward him, leaning next to him at the wall and offering her hand. He lifted a brow to her before handing her the smoke. She inhaled, reveled in the burn the smoke inflicted on her lungs, then slowly exhaled. Her eyes watered a little but her cough had only been small. He smirked at her as she handed the death-stick back. “I don’t smoke unless I’m feeling stressed. As you can imagine, being brought back from the dead, I’m a _really_ stressed.”

“I get that,” he grumbled, settling more comfortable against the wall, rotating his shoulders a little before looking at her. She had her arms crossed again, and was only leaning against the wall with her shoulder. He could tell a part of her was still fighting against being completely relaxed around him. He thought that was smart. Hell, with what he’s done, he still didn’t trust himself at times.

“A part of me wishes I was never brought back,” she said, brows now furrowed with guilt as she looked up at him. “I know it’s selfish, but, God I can’t even go see my father. Let alone my friends… I’m just… Stuck here.”

“I get that, Canary, I really do. If I die, I want to _stay_ dead. None of this resurrection crap. At least you came out of it all right. No bloodlust. No weird glowy thing like what Snart has.”

He had no idea it was possible, but Laurel’s frown actually deepened at that comment. She twisted around, her (very nice) ass now bracing her weight against the wall as she looked down at the toe of her black boots. Some of her hair fell and curtained her face and she reached up to slowly pull it back behind the shell of her ear before looking back at him. 

“I’m cold. All the time. I never used to be this cold. It’s like… It’s like I feel a part of me is still dead. I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining it but… I feel like something is missing. I just can’t get warm, Mick, and it worries me. Should I be worried?”

“Hell if I know,” he said, blowing out another plume of smoke before lifting up his boot and snuffing out the butt of his smoke against the leather. It sizzled and he flicked it toward the cargo bay. Rip would yell at him again about it, but he didn’t give a fuck. 

“ _That’s_ reassuring,” said Laurel, shaking her head.

“What?” he asked. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped with a sharp shrug of her shoulders. “Tell me I’m being crazy for thinking that! Anything!”

“You’re kinda acting crazy now,” he muttered, making her sigh in frustration. She moved to go and for some reason he reached out, leather covered hand tucking into the groove of her elbow and stilling her. “Wait… Look. I’m not good with this shit. All right? I don’t _do_ feelings. I talk with my fists not my mouth.”

Laurel raised an amused brow. “You’re talking right now.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he grumbled, now frazzled with himself. 

Laurel, however, was becoming more and more aware of the hand wrapped around her elbow. A slow and steady warmth started seeping into the area and it had her wanting… More. So she reached up, fingers resting on his shoulder, tucked next to the popped collar of his green jacket. His heat spread into her skin and she unconsciously found herself stepping closer. She felt him tense at her closeness so she just took the one step before slowly looking up at him. Her large, green eyes met his dark brown and once again she let herself be selfish for once and stepped fully into his space. 

“What’re you going?” he asked gruffly as she sighed in pleasure.

“You’re so warm,” she murmured, cold nose pressed against the skin of his neck. His hands had moved to her hips when she’d stepped closer and they tightened, making the leather creak, as her hands drifted beneath his jacket and shirt to press against his heated skin. Her hands _were_ cold and he fought the urge to shiver as they drifted over his scarred skin. He was waiting for her to tense, to realize he was damaged, but she didn’t move away. “How are you so warm?”

Laurel was in heaven. He smelled of sandalwood and something else. Like matches after you blow them out. It was like he was gifting her his heat and she hummed while continuing to run her hands up and down his back. She felt like she was getting high off his touch and she leaned back slightly to look up at him. 

“Sorry,” she said, coming to her senses, wanting to take a step back but his hands tightened on her hips. Curious, she waited, and she could see the war in his eyes. But what battle was he waging in his head. “Mick?”

“Laurel… I…” He closed his eyes for a brief moment then opened them, a sudden determination filling them. “Fuck it.”

Soon, Laurel found herself being pressed against the wall, with his mouth slanted over hers. Her fingernails clenched into the skin of his back as she eagerly returned his kiss. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been intimate with someone. Had it really been Tommy? It felt like years ago. Either way she could feel the familiar fire start to build deep within her chest as she pulled him closer. She wrapped a leg around his waist to anchor herself while his gloved hands found themselves in her hair, tugging at her blonde locks. 

Suddenly, she was trembling, and it _wasn’t_ from the cold. 

He broke the kiss and both were panting for breath while still (almost desperately) pressing against each other. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes so when she opened them she was started by what she saw. Mick Rory’s face had a softness to it as he looked down at her. Laurel slowly let the leg that had wrapped around his waist fall while all too aware of the bulge pressing against her. 

“That was…” she started, unsure of how to describe it. 

“Fucking awesome,” he finished for her, making her laugh. 

“Yeah, it was,” she said, hands sliding out from beneath his shirt and jacket but remaining at his waist. 

“My door is always open for you Laurel,” he said, taking a deep breath before exhaling while stepping back. Laurel had to admit she respected him even more for backing off a little when she’d been the one to get in his space first. “To talk or… Whatever.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling. He nodded before waving a hand to the door of his room. It opened and she was hit with that scent again. The sandalwood and matches. She inhaled deeply before the door could close and she sighed before heading back to her room. Slowly, the warmth dissipated and by the time she made it under the covers after a long, hot shower…

She was cold again. 

**END**


End file.
